


The Art of Friendship

by Lidsworth



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Bullying, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he'd ridden himself of Asami three years ago, he planned to avoid all future encounters with the Yakuza. Now working as a school counselor, Takaba is shocked to see that his newest “patient” looks similar to Asami, and may well be the man's son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: When he'd ridded himself of Asami three years ago, he planned to avoid all encounters with the Crime Lord in the future. However, now working as a school counselor, Takaba is perplexed at the newest "patient" that the school has sent to his office. The boy looks exactly like Asami.
> 
> Summary #2: When he'd ridded himself of Asami three years ago, he planned to avoid all future encounters with the Yakuza. Now working as a school counselor, Takaba is shocked to see that his newest "patient" looks similar to Asami, and may well be the man's son.
> 
> AN: I really hope you do enjoy this one. As for now, i'll just keep it as a oneshot as I try to finish my other works, but do tell me what you think please. PLEASE!. I've had this on my mind for far too long, and I just needed to get it out there.
> 
> (sorry for any mistakes!)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Finder Series.

"I've told you two before," Takaba began, rather annoyed at the two youths standing before his desk, gruff expressions etched onto both of their faces, " If you continue to see each other, than nothing good will come out of it_nothing, yet you insist on skipping classes to see each other, hanging behind the bleachers, running to the bathroom, together, during passing periods!"

He stood up, and angrily grabbed a note from his desk, "Yet, despite your defiance, despite that fact that you "love each other", every single week, I get a report from an anonymous student, claiming that one of you is going to kill yourself because you can't stand the other!"

"They just don't understand us, Mr. Steiner," the boy called out, holding the girl's hand tighter, "yeah, we get into arguments, but isn't that what you're supposed to do in a relationship?"

The girl nodded, quickly, backing her estranged boy friend up.

Takaba sighed, "Roll up your sleeves, the both of you_Now!" he commanded, sitting on the front surface of his desk.

Though hesitant, the couple broke contact just for a moment, revealing to the school counselor their scars, love scars, they called them.

"So this is it, huh? You'll love each other until you kill each other," Takaba said sarcastically, though his voice quickly took a serious turn, "I care about you both, a lot, just as I do any other students that come into my office_With that being said, you are not allowed to see each. I don't know how many times i've said it, but i'm serious this time. I have the power to file a restraining order, to put either of you in an emergency room, to make it so you never see each other again...i don't want to do that, but if I have to, I will...stay away from each other!"

"You don't understand Mr. Steiner!" the girl cried our, her eyes on the brim of tears, "I know we...i know we're not the best, but we love each other! We do! Just give us-"  
"Give you what, time?" he darkly chuckled, "and what of time? Time will be your worst enemy, time will give you enough time to hang yourself. I'm sorry, but not really_This is my job, and I enjoy doing it, I want to see you live another day. I'm calling your parents, both of yours. You're unstable now, and until we meet with your official therapist, I'm not okay with you two walking around school without a watchful eye," he went back around, and took a seat in the chair behind his desk, "they were called before I sent for you two, it will be short now. Just wait a minute."

"Mr. Steiner!" he flinched as the girl screamed his alias, "You just don't understand! I can't survive without him, I can't! Please...just let us.."

"And where is he, standing up for you?" Takaba motioned towards the boy, who looked the other way, "Perhaps he's gained his senses?"  
"Sachi! Tell him it's not true, we love each other! Don't we! Don't we!?" she called, her knuckles white, as she clenched her fist in such a manor that her palms bled, "tell him what you told me, that we need each other!"

"I-I don't want to hurt you anymore..." he breathed silently, "if..if...being away from you means helping you, then i'll do it."

Takaba inwardly smiled at the sincerity of Sachi's admittance, though remained void of any emotion on the outside.

"Ms. Ping, take a seat, your parents will be here shortly," he commanded, monotonously.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When he first began college, he planned to major in photography, and photography alone. It wasn't until Kou suggested psychology, that he took a slight interest in it. Unlike Kou, however, Takaba had never been incredibly passionate about psychology, and though he took the class, and eventually double majored, it never affected him as much as Photography did.

That was until he met Asami.

Psychology can be applied to all aspects of life, and when one knows how to pull the strings of the mind, evaluate a common psych, and make not only intelligent, but a well thought out observation of life, psychology does apply to life.

The mind of a psychologist is very similar, if not the same, to that of an artist.

A photographer is no different.

Both artist and psychologist poke and prod at life, dissecting it, and rearranging it.

They lift the dull layers that have been conditioned by society, and expose life for what it truly is.

Artist, like Takaba, exploit if for its beauty, parade it and celebrate it.

They celebrate the harsh truth.

Psychologist, like Takaba, do the exact opposite. They condemn it for it's evilness, they try to fix it for the cruelty it is, yet out of evil, light cannot come.

A doctor of the mind is a vary risky business, as an entire world is in your palm, a world you can destroy within mere seconds. Unlike the artist, no beauty will be made out of a lie_because life is not beautiful.

At least not in Takaba's observations.

Perhaps if he'd taken such delicate care with his, and Asami's mind three years ago, then he would not be in this current predicament.

Then again, they were never working towards the same goal.

They wanted different things.

Takaba wanted love, Asami wanted lust, despite the consequences.

One of them was going down, and at the time, it certainly was not going to be Asami. So he did what he could. When Asami began objectifying him more than the common household pen, Takaba took the opportunity to leave.

When Asami began to get too close to others, when Takaba could see more than a simple acquaintanceship forming between Asami and his certain business partners, Takaba took his chance and left.

The separation anxiety had been the toughest barrier to break, after that, he'd distanced himself from Asami and his men.

His alias came next, as he had planned his escape months before. His bank accounts were canceled, his address changed, his information altered (thanks to Sakasaki, who was actually more helpful than one thought), and his friends advised to keep quiet under any circumstances.

He created a "fake" name for himself, more importantly, the actual name on his birth certificate.

Steiner Frost. He hated the name, hated it, and embraced his adopted name more than anything.

Akihito Takaba meant so much to him, it was him, yet because of Asami, he lost it all.

He lost a lot because of Asami, and gained nothing.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He ate alone in his office that day, after he'd dismissed previous studentsthat had been sent to him for counseling or discipline. Since his fiasco with Asami, he noticed that he hardly ate a bite of anything. It bothered him at first, to notice the steady decline in his weight, the dulling of his hair, and the darkening of his eyes. His initial tendency to neglect his meals was no doubt a feat he'd gained from Asami, though he liked to believe other wise, he wasn't exactly happy without the older man.

But for the longest time, he debated on whether it was happiness or attraction he felt towards Asami.

Don't doubt yourself for a minute, Aki, his voice protest, you loved him.

And that, he did, but he wanted the same back.

Perhaps he was too needy, perhaps he wanted too much.

Sighing, he removed the deli sandwich from it's ceramic wrap, and wondered suddenly why he hadn't gone for a more cultural meal. Not that sandwiches weren't common, now a days, they just were not the traditional Japanese food Takaba was used to.

Granted, he wasn't full Japanese, but the part of him that was yearned to taste something that he was used to, something that he grew up with...not...American food.

Not that he had anything against Americans or their foods, heck, he hardly ate, but when he did, he surely didn't eat Japanese.

Since Asami...he began a steady transform into someone completely different.

Someone "unlikeable", someone that wasn't Takaba.

It wasn't intentional though, It just happened.

His hair was no longer it's bright blond color, and had been dyed black to the roots. He remembered, the first night, he cried about it.

But, he learned to love his look about a week later. He wasn't one of Asami's playthings, he wasn't his property.

He was his own man.

When his appearance had been somewhat alter, and his eating habits became little to nothing, Takaba tried to sever his bond with his passion, photography.

However, that was impossible, and he berated himself for even thinking such a connection could be broken. Even with his hectic job as a counselor now, he still manged to sneak a few pictures here and there.

He hung them up around his small home, and at times, just stared at them. They weren't like the extravagant pictures he'd taken years ago, but, they held their own specific kind of beauty. Versatile in subject, he'd taken photos of landscapes, scenery, cities, nature, the sky, and just about anything else that a normal person saw on their normal day commute.

It was a way to stay in touch with is true self.

He brought the sandwich to his mouth, and took a small nibble off of the bread. One bite rendered him full, and he quickly wrapped the sandwich back in the plastic, and put it inside of his desk drawyer.

OoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The stench was the first thing that hit Takaba.

An odor so atrocious, so full of evil and malice had found its was into his office, around his desk and up his nose. Quickly, he used his tie to cover his face, but the damage had already been done.

The stench was trapped in his head, deep into his nostrils and slowly descending down his throat. His eyes watered at the internal assault, and he fought the urge to gag as the smell reached his stomach.

What surprised him more, however, was the cause of the stench.

The door had been closed the instant it had been open, as an attempt to keep the smell further out of the hallways.

Sadly, this meant to stinky problem was indeed human, and was indeed Takaba's problem.

Standing before him was a boy, a small boy. Takaba assumed that at a time, he looked nice, clean and intelligent, but with the cafeteria's compost and garbage thrown on you, even the worlds most beautiful model would have had a run for her money.

His hair was soaked in liquid, that no doubt secreted the smell. Atop of his head was a banana peal, and the rest of his clothing was adorned in trash.

Takaba so desperately wanted to take a picture.

Counting his luck, he removed the tie from around his nose, and whiffed in the horrid smell of the portable trash.

He might as well have gotten used to it, as the conversation with the child would be a long and painful one.

Slowly, he walked around the desk, completely aware of the figure that followed him with it's large golden eye, the other was darker, covered by murky hair.

"Is there a reason," he began, walking closer and closer, "as to why you smell like the trash."

it was then that Takaba realized that those ketchup streaks on the boys face weren't actually ketchup stains, they were tears. Tears darkened by the liquid dripping from his hair.

"They saw me drawing..." he cheeped, avoiding Takaba's gaze, "And took my pictures from me...i said i'd tell my parents, and they got mad. Everyone in lunch threw food at me at my table, they made fun of how I look, and then they dumped me in the hallway trashcan."

He undid his tie, and pulled the boy close to him. He was surprised by the child's sudden stiffness.

"IT's okay, that's going to irritate your skin," Takaba soothed him, "Let's get you cleaned up before we talk, which teacher sent you in here?"

Reluctantly, he allowed Takaba to brush his face wit his tie, "It wasn't a t-teacher. T-they told me you help people feel g-good...i walked here b-by myself."

"By yourself...not one teacher or friend lended you a hand?" Takaba asked.

"I-i don't h-have friends," he whispered as another dark tear streamed down his cheek, "Everybody thinks I'm weird"

He's stuttering...that's not a good sign. Doesn't look like he comes from an encourage household, Takaba took a mental note, as he cleared some of the mess off, "This won't all be cleaned with my tie, we'll have to go to the locker room_"  
"Please Mr. Steiner," he begged, even folding his small hands, "Don't make me go through the hallways! They'll make fun of me!"

He sighed, "Not when I'm with you, I'll make sure they don't hurt you."  
"And what about when you leave, then what? They'll just bully me all over again," he muttered, defeated, "I told you, I d-don't have f-friends! N-no one w-will stand up for me!"

Takaba sighed and began to remove his coat, "If you're so scared, than wear this until we get to the locker rooms...now normally I wouldn't do this, but we don't have a choice, and you're starting to stink."

The boy made a sobbing noise as he wrapped the suit jacket around his small figure, and buttoned it up all the way until you could no longer see his face. Takaba sighed as he ushered him out of the room, and into a hallway full of bustling students.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bullying happened all the time, though it meant little to those who had never been bullied. They'd seen the posters, seen the ads to stop bullying, even helped with the campaign, but many didn't know the full effects of it until they got bullied themselves.

To many, supporting the fight against bullying was simply another good deed, another badge to put on your vest, or a note to write on your resume.

But seeing the filth and dirt melt away from his skin and his clothing, and fall down the drain, had touched Takaba in a way he didn't think possible.

His heart ached for the child before him, and like any overprotective being, he wanted to murder the idiots who'd made him feel this way. Unfortunately, Takaba had gathered that his parents felt the exact opposite, and cared less about the issues their son was facing at school.

"See, there, you smell better," Takaba chimed in, attempting to earn a smile from the boy, but he returned the compliment with a dark gaze.

"Until tomorrow," he breathed rather sadly, "tomorrow, everything will be the same."

Takaba chanced his luck, "Do you tell your parents about this, about how you feel?"

The boy shrugged, and continued to scrub the filth out of his hair. Though a shower curtain obscured most of the boy's body, Takaba could still see his small feet, and the dirty water draining down the floor of the shower.

"My parents don't care," he stated honestly, "it's okay though, I tell my little brother everything."

Takaba smiled, "You've got siblings?"  
"Yeah, just one, and he's a baby...though at times, I think he understands me," he said happily, "He's why I keep living."

Why I keep living? Why the hell would a kid need to say that, Takaba thought frantically, I need to get in touch with his parents.

He was surprised by the boy's overall willingness to speak to him, to provide him with such usable information. But he had stated before that he needed help, that he wanted it.

This boy wasn't being open, he was being desperate.

"So, why do you think they bully you?" Takaba asked, as he fumbled with a fresh uniform and undergarments he'd gotten from the nurses office on their way to the locker room, "...did you do something?"

"Yeah," the shower water stopped, "I was born."

Takaba changed the subject, "I'm glad you're not stuttering anymore."  
"I stutter when I'm nervous," he admitted, "or...stressed."

"Big words, when do you stutter then?" Takaba pressed on, "at home, at school_"  
"Yeah, but when I'm with my brother...I'm really good at speaking, or with the nurse, or with you now. I trust you," he stated bluntly, "a lot."

"And you should," Takaba replied gleefully, "I can help you, but we should really talk to your parents."

There was a small silence that ensued at the comment, and it wasn't until a minute later, did the boy speak again.

"Pass me a towel please," he instructed, seemingly ignoring Takaba's comment, "I-i'm starting to get a draft."

Again with the stuttering,Takaba thought to himself, as he reached into one of the cabinets behind him on the wall, and pulled out a towel.

Before he moved into his home, he'd usually be forced to spend the night at the school if he wasn't able to pay his apartment rent. Needless to say, he was familiar with the school and its workings.

Since then, of course, his payroll had been increased sliglty, and he could now live in an actual home.

Takaba made to open the shower curtain, but the boy's quick hand stopped him.

"D-don't open it!" he shouted, "I can d-dry m-myself off!"

Takaba gasped at the sudden change in the boy's tone, and drew his irritated hand away.

The normal silence resumed between them, as the boy dried himself off behind the curtain, Takaba sat on the ground, fumbling with the small uniform.

He figured that he should not have been as surprised by the boy's outburst, as depending on the boy's age, he would have gathered enough knowledge to know that you were supposed to keep your clothes on at all times.

However, younger kids weren't as reluctant to remove their clothes, not until they reached a certain age. He wasn't entirely sure how old this kid was.

The forbidden word had been hovering in the back of Akihito's mind. Perhaps abuse was a prime suspect, perhaps the kid was trying to hide bruises?

But bullying came with bruises as well.

" ...my c-clothes p-please," he asked silently.

"Oh, here," his request had pulled Takaba out of his train of though. He made to pass the clothing to the child, but stopped at his striking features.

The bright eyes had been enough to startle Takaba before, but with his dark hair in face, in contrast with his skin, the boy looked very similar to Asami.

Takaba fought to control his emotions, and quickly closed his eyes to dispel the image.

"M-mr. St-steiner, are you okay," the boy wrapped the towel tighter around his body, and took a slow step towards Takaba, "w-why are you shaking?"  
Takaba's eyes shot open, quickly taking notice of an abnormal trait, "Your...your eyes," he began, "They're two different colors."  
The boy quickly brought a hand up to the blue one, and closed the other, "I-it's w-weird! M-my dad b-bought m-me contacts, b-but the trash i-irritated them."

"Hey, hey, now," Takaba grabbed his small wrist and pried away his small hand, "be proud of who you are, okay. You don't have a lot of self-confidence, why is that?"

Why the hell did his dad even entertain the idea of contacts? Takaba was angry with the parents, and made a mental note to schedule a meeting with the two, and perhaps award them the "Worse Parent of the Year" award.

The boy shrugged and looked at his feet, a small blush crept to his face, "Y-you're the second person whose told me that," he admitted sheepishly, "but the first person went away."  
"Who was the first person?" Takaba pressed on, scooting closer to the boy, "Was it your mom, or your dad?"  
He shook his head, "I-i think he was my dad's friend...he had glasses, but I don't see him anymore. He liked me."

Takaba smiled, "Where'd he go?"

"He left one day I think," the boy was getting calmer, "to take my dad somewhere, a meeting I think. After that, my dad got hurt, and I never saw the guy again...he was really nice to me. He was friend."

So there went the boy's confidence, hope the dad didn't fire the guy for doing what he couldn't.

"Oh...here's your clothes, it's got everything you need," Takaba turned around after he handed the boy the uniform, "we can talk more after you put them on."

The young boy took his time as he dressed himself neatly, quietly muttering, "I'm done," when he'd finished his task.

Takaba turned around, and bit back a laugh, "They're a little too big_But it's not that much of a difference. Not at all, not at all!"

He caught himself before he warranted any unnecessary distress from the small child.

"Then, do you wanna go back to my office," Takaba inclined, "we can talk more."

The child nodded eagerly, but recoiled suddenly, "I'm always wearing my contacts...but they'll see my eyes now," he sighed, "can I borrow your jacket again?"  
"It smells like trash now," Takaba looked towards the stinky garment, "just...stand by me, i'm the counselor, no one will laugh at you."  
And true to his word, no one did.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Geez," Takaba whistled, "you've probably missed a lot of classes, i'm surprised your teacher hasn't called for you."

The boy returned the compliment with his signature shrug, as he sat on his chair in front of Takaba's desk, and sketched furiously on a sheet of paper.

"So, about that meeting with your parents," Takaba reintroduced the pressing subject into the conversation, "I'll need to know their information, as well as yours...like a name."

"They already know," the boy was quick to answer, "there's nothing they can do about it, really."

"Why?"

"They're never at home...hardly," he said rather sadly, "my brother's always at the daycare until my mom picks him up..."

Takaba scribbled this information on his notepad, occasionally tossing "mhmms" and head nods at the boy's personal information.

"-and before my brother was born, my mom was always drinking...apparently she was a free spirit. I hope he comes out alright, i'm really worried that It might have done something to his head. My dad cares about us, I think...but he doesn't do a good job at showing it. He's always so sad, I think. I can tell that he used to be happier than he is now. I love him more than I do my mother, she's hardly around, and even though he hardly speaks to me, I think he makes an effort to love me...can I tell you a secret?"  
Takaba's eyes widened at the sudden hushed tone, but he nodded nevertheless, "Yeah, you can tell me."

The boy motioned for Takaba to come near him, and quickly, the photographer did.

"I think my dad loved someone else before he liked my mom," he whispered into Takaba's ears, "And even if he left my mom, as long as he visited us sometime and didn't forget about us, I'd be happy to see him happy."

"What a selfless thing to say for a kid your age," Takaba complimented, amazed by his wisdom, "and your picture, it's amazing."  
The boy blushed at the compliment, and pulled the picture of a park closer to him, "It was the park my dad's friend took me to one time for my birthday. He bought me ice cream, and pushed me on the swing until I got tired!"

The picture was extravagant for one so young. The detail was amazing, all the way down to the cross hatched sky, to the silhouetted figures in the center.

"I really really miss him," his voice was pleading, filled with agony and pain, " he was my first friend...and he went away...if you become my friend, you won't go away, will you?"

Takaba shook his head furiously, no way was he willing to toss this kid away, "Of course not, but you'll have to come and visit me more often...and really, I want to get in touch with your parents. Do you draw much at home?"  
He shook his head, "My dad...he doesn't like arty things. My friend, he bought it for me, a camera...and dad got real mad...he destroyed it, so I have to sneak things like this...I just draw from memory though."

Takaba chuckled, "You're like a living camera, by the way, I used to take pictures myself, would you like to look at them?"

The boy brightened, "Yeah!"

It took Takaba no time to get his camera from his desk, and activate the small slide-show setting. "You won't be too interested in the people though, you probably don't know any of them."

The boy nodded as he looked through the camera, smiling at the occasional scenery that popped on the screen.

"Could I reference them...oh, never mind," he stated sadly.

"What's up, you can use them if you'd like," he replied honestly, "I hardly take pictures anymore."

The boy sighed, "It's just...i don't have anywhere to draw anymore, the students trashed my sketch pad, and my dad's not gonna buy me a new one."

"Then you can draw in here, i'll buy you a new one" Takaba smiled, "I don't mind, I actually enjoy your company. And besides, I can help you a lot more."

The boy's face lit up, "Really! You'd let me do that?"  
"I don't see why not, just get your work done, and during recess or lunch, or any free time you've got, stop in here, if i've got a meeting, you can wait in the back," he continued, "you've got a talent, don't keep it caged up."

The boy nodded, and resumed his drawing, "Thanks for believing in me," he muttered silently, yet loud enough for Takaba to hear, "he told me to call him "Glasses-guy," because it made me laugh all the time...he believed in me too."

Takaba smiled at the distant name, "Seem like a nice guy."

The boy nodded as his arm worked skillfully around the paper, "I can talk to you whenever, right?"  
"Whenever," Takabe restated, "don't be afraid."

"When i'm with you," he began, "i'm not..scared...and I just met you too, you're really nice, and really trustworthy...thanks for understanding."

"And thank you for opening up," Takaba walked to his desk, and began to write his own phone number down, "I'll give you my number before you leave, but you can stay here until your parents pick you up_Or whoever picks you up, by the way, can you give me a last name so I can look up your information."

The boy paused suddenly, and his face lit up with a bright red "Please don't tell them! They'll just argue about it, I hate when they argue, because they do it so much! I don't want to be the reason why they're both unhappy!"

"They need to know," Takaba said soothingly, "then we can work together to help you."  
"My parents won't work together," he said defeated, "they don't love each other."

Takaba sighed, "Fine...fine, I won't contact them now, but if things get worse, I will. For now, the two of us will deal with it, okay?"  
Somewhat more happy, the boy nodded, "O-okay...my last name, right?"  
Takaba nodded, "Though a first name would be pretty nice too, so I could call you something other than "kid"."

"My first name is funny...my mom got it from America when her family went there on vacation a long time ago, so don't laugh!," he blushed, "Casper...Casper Asami."

At this, Takaba's heart skipped a beat, and the small child had hopped off of his chair, and made his way to Takaba's desk, holding the picture towards the counselor.

"Here's my picture, see," he pointed to the center, where another small figure stood, "I added you!"

Reluctantly, Takaba took the picture, and smiled at the sincerity.

"C-Casper...we'll you certainly are friendly," he remarked, "I love the picture, by the way."

"Thanks...c-could y-you walk me outside?" the boy looked away as he asked, expecting an immediate rejection.

"To your parents car?" Takaba chanced, afraid of what the answer was going to be.

There are millions of "Asami's" in Japan, he is not in anyway, shape or form related to your Asami! He berated himself for the thought. But the golden eye, the dark locks...he looked too familiar to just be a coincidence...

"No, they hardly pick me up, it's just one of my dad's workers," he explained, "I don't really talk to them much."

Takaba nodded as relief flooded over his body.

"Yeah, i'll walk you there...but here's my number," he handed the boy the slip of paper, "call me whenever you feel like you need to talk."

"Yeah_whose Takaba?" The boy looked towards him with confused eyes, as he held up the paper.

"Oh! It's my dead dog," Takaba lied and quickly took the note away, and scribbled out the name, "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay," he replied, "As long as it's you're number."

Takaba smiled, "It is...don't hesitate to call."

"I won't," Casper replied, "J-just d-don't go away, p-please."

"As long as you don't stop coming," Takaba retorted back, "We'll lean on each other, okay?"

The boy happily nodded as Takaba held the door open for him, "Does that make us friends?"  
"Yeah...i suppose so_Does this mean you'll keep drawing?"

"If you keep helping me," Casper said, "And if you can't help, at least you'll listen."

Takaba smiled, and ruffled Casper's dark locks, "I'll help, trust me, I'll help."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for reviewing! I initially planned to continue this, but school got in the way, and my portfolio, and other things, so I just started spewing tiny stories here and there. Towards the first half, it's a lot about Casper and Asami, and where they stand as father and son. Keep in mind, Takaba doesn't know that Casper is Asami's son. At least not yet. Also, this is self-beta'd, so there may be grammar mistakes. (also, a shoutout to Romanceisdead's new story, Morning Light, it's legit, and awesome, read it)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Finder Series.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention, I used some lines from a poem by Robert Frost. It's called Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. It's my favorite poem of all time.

A man dressed in expensive attire had come to collect Casper from Takaba's office. Neither Casper nor Takaba expected the man to walk into the office, but apparently, he'd been looking for Casper for a while now. He was urgent in his search for the son of his boss, and reluctantly bit his tongue, as he wanted to lecture Takaba on the seriousness of taking and keeping Casper in his office without a very good reason. And as promised, Takaba withheld all information regarding Casper's bullying.

Like the many stoic men Takaba had encountered, this man made no indirect acknowledgment at Takaba's presence, and only spoke when addressed to. With downcast eyes, Casper had introduced the man as being his father's Secretary, and sadly waved goodbye at Takaba before he left.

Beforehand, Takaba kindly offered to escort both Casper and the Secretary out, but the man had gruffly turned him down, took the small boy by the hand, and left.

Now with Casper gone, Takaba could think.

Takaba looked over the picture one last time, really looked at it. His fingers traced over the dented areas on the paper, where Casper had pressed his drawing utensils down hard. His inner photographer was tingling, and he fought the urge to snap a quick photo at the image below him. It deserved the recognition, as Takaba could feel the love and joy in which Casper had invoked into the piece.

Casper...what loving parent names their child Casper?

He supposed it depended on the part of the world that you lived in, but in Japan, Casper was not a common name.

And what parents even indulged in getting their child colored contacts? Where was the "You're perfect how you are" speech, why would loving parents even entertain the idea of altering their son's appearance because of a birth defect?

Sighing, Akihito placed the thin sheet of paper into his desk drawer. If Casper's experiences at school got any worse, than Akihito would contact his parents, whether the boy wanted him to or not.

As for now, he decided he'd deal with the bullies tomorrow, and due to Casper's reluctance to provide useful information regarding his tormentors to Takaba, than he would have to keep a vigilant eye on the boy.

When the shyness had been peeled from the boy's being, and he somewhat came out of his shell, Casper was a personality that would shed light to even the darkest of people. He was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, only, the clouds were prevailing as Casper's light grew weaker...

Perhaps Akihito could reinforce some of that sunshine...perhaps. He just needed the time and the cooperation.

Running a hand through his dark hair, he chuckled at his current predicament. Oddly, he felt overprotective of Casper, and felt the urge to do what his parents were obviously failing to do.

Love him.

And the urge to schedule a meeting with the irresponsible mother and father ignited in his chest once again, and had it not been for the sake of his promise, he would have gone into the student directory and contacted them both. Then it would be over, fixed, and done.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, he recited to himself, as he began collecting his things from around his desk, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Takaba was no idiot. It would take more than a simple conference to undo terrible parenting habits, and pry a shy boy out of his shell. He was ignorant for contemplating such easiness.

A happy family composed of many positive factors, and positive factors took ages to build, and not all parents were willing to go the extra mile to ensure a happy life for their child. No doubt, Casper's family was one of those families.

Yes, Aki, he thought to himself, you truly do have miles to go before you sleep, don't you?

He hadn't slept since he left Asami.

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Casper was surprised to see his father sitting in the backseat of the expensive BMW, leaning against the tinted window, and as always, looking seemingly uninterested in his current position. Casper acknowledged his father with a nod, and was returned with a golden gaze from the older man.

Casper took the seat furthest from Ruyichi, and like his father, looked out of the window nearest to him.

The driver began to drive.

He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his father's gaze fall upon him, and hoped that his oversized clothes went unnoticed to those trained honey eyes.

"Look at me," like a silent bullet colliding with a cracked mirror, his father's potent voice disrupted the temporary standstill between the two, and demanded Casper's undivided attention at that very moment.

Underneath the calm, concerned tone, Casper could practically feel the authority reeking from the man sitting across from him, pulling and prying at his reserved psych.

His father hated disobedience, he hated not being in control. He begged for attention and for respect, even to the point of antagonizing his own son. Whether he did so purposely or not, Casper didn't know, but for certain, his father thrived off of control.

Casper refused to look towards Ryuichi.

He could hear his father shuffling into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and he knew it was the breast pocket, because he alwayswent into his breast pocket when he felt he was loosing even an ounce of control. He hid behind his cigarettes.

The "click" of the lighter resounded throughout the small area seconds later, and heavy smoke filled the back seat.

Casper despised the musty smell of cigarette smoke, and Asami knew it.

But his father strove to great lengths to maintain control, or at least, destroy the illusion of disobedience.

"Look at me," his father's demand was nearly as intoxicating as his smoke. Both seeped deep into Casper, forcefully, like raw heroine shooting through veins.

He coughed, his eyes began to water and tingle, and his throat began dry.

When did parenting become a game? Casper wondered sadly, as he turned towards his father, who bore a gaze of disgust on his porecalien features.

Casper had heard before, from Glasses Guy, that the ugliest people had to most beautiful souls, and the ugliest souls made beautiful people.

While he knew the rule didn't apply to all people, he figured that it could apply to someone like his father and mother.

"What happened to your contacts?" he blew a cloud of smoke at his suffering son, yet his son's eyes shone brightly through the smog.

He shrugged, you're cigarette smoke irritates them, "They got irritated, I had to take them out."

Asami nodded, "We'll get you a new pair."

"Be proud of who you are, okay?" Mr. Steiner's encouraging words wedged their way into his heart, and though small, he felt a fickle of courage spring up inside of his body.

"I-I'll...it's o-okay," he averted his gaze and began to twiddle his fingers, "I-I d-don't need them anymore."

Asami sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "You're stuttering again, why? And look at me when I'm speaking to you."

The hate filled inflection of Asami's command caused Casper to jump in his seat, "I-I j-just get n-nervous..."

Asami chuckled, "Continue like this, and you'll be trampled by your enemies."

I'm already being trampled by my enemies, he mentally sneered at his father. Perhaps a small flicker of determination burned in his eyes, like a dying ember, only for a second.

But a second was all Asami needed to catch a glimpse of his own son's disobedience.

Swiftly, Asami had maneuvered his way towards his son, pulling him close, and into his lap. His large fingers snaked up his son's neck, and towards his chin, tilting the boy's head upwards.

Father and son peered intently into each others eyes. Asami, reigning from above, and Casper cowering from below.

"What was that, I saw?" Asami chimed, a leer etching into his dark features, "a fighting determination? Where does that spirit come from?"  
Casper quivered under his father's wicked gaze, and fought the urge to look away. He could feel his face heating up as the blush crept into his cheeks, and as his heart beat like a raging drum. The smoke was stronger than ever, seeping into his throat. Yet he didn't waiver. He couldn't' show his father disobedience.

Times like this, times when he garnered the negative attention of his father, Casper swore he caught a glimpse of a slightly inhuman look about Asami. The golden morphed into a darker color, a deep sinking gold, and Casper felt as if he was looking at someone else. As if Ryuichi was looking at someone else.

And as quickly as it happened, it ended. The realization that his father was looking at his own son returned, and the darkness melted from Asami's scorn.

He let him go.

Casper pushed himself away from Asami, and his back collided with the door of the vehicle.

The car stopped.

He opened the door before the nameless secretary had the chance to do so himself.

Into the open, a rush of clear air assaulted Casper in the most pleasant of ways. Slamming the door behind him, the boy quickly made his way up the long concrete path, and towards his family home. His pace increased as he heard the car door behind him open and close, and the sound of his father speaking to the Secretary.

He didn't look back once, before he broke off into a full sprint, and into the family home.

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Before his parents married, Casper had gathered from pictures that the two had lived in an expensive apartment, probably somewhere in the city. He assumed that the arrival of children prompted for a more "homey" area, and was the reason why his family had vacated to this large home.

Maybe they sought to fill the house with happiness, allow joyful memories to seep into the deep yellow paint, rather than despair that crumbled the walls, or fill the large rooms with laughter rather than the agony that hung about the ceiling, dampening the mood of any visitor who stepped foot into the luxurious structure.

The only joy that the house contained was his brother, his brother that who would be tainted soon, very soon. Casper spent time with him, in hopes that he would maintain his innocence. But he doubted his brother would remain the same for long, even in his young age, his father would begin molding him into a perfect puppet.

Casper had been a failure, his brother would not be.

He walked into the living room, when suddenly, he realized that he left most of his things at school, and he had a lot of homework to do, a lot of it. Much of it was unnecessary for the six year old mind to comprehend, but his father didn't send him to school to be a slacker, nor did he send him to school to be an artist, so Casper supposed he was breaking many of the rules anyway.

Thank God his father hadn't checked his grades yet, because as of now, Casper certainly wasn't making straight "A's". Often times, Casper wondered what sort of grades his father made in school. He doubted he was a slacker, if so, he wouldn't be the CEO of a nameless corporation in which Casper had little care to learn about.

His father's life was doused in black and white, ties and Dunhill, scandal and lies.

In Asami's world, creativity and beauty remained unwanted, a poison to the elites. Dousing their world in colors meant diverging them from their double colored prison.

It meant exposing them, shaking them.

Beauty was not a necessity in the Underworld, only with Ugliness would their close-minded universe thrive, sucking the life out of the many who yearned to be colorful.

When given the chance to think about it, Casper supposed the scenario of a gorgeous vampire, and an unsuspecting victim seemed just about right for the scene.

Vampires were beautiful and enticing, skillful and conniving, the perfect businessman. The found their prey, their feeble, unsuspecting prey, and latched onto their necks.

Tearing through the tender muscles, burying their veins deep into the throat, the vampires drained their victims of their color, their beautiful, exotic unique color. And at the same time, they injected their own corrosive venom into their meal. He assumed that the sting only lasted for a while, a painful while. Like electricity shooting throughout your body, singing and peeling your insides away, the venom rendered you colorless, leaving a near carbon copy of the vampire himself.

Leaving a businessman, a ghoulish businessman. Because, what was life without colors? Was it limbo, or purgatory...was it death?

Pausing for a while, he thought.

Perhaps his father was a vampire.

Casper grunted and ran a hand through his messy hair. Thoughts like these are what make you forget your stuff!

And his conscience was probably right.

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Asami had come inside shortly after Casper had, though the boy had vacated the area before Asami could catch him. He shook his head as he removed his shoes at the door, that boy was giving him gray hairs already.

His recent defiance was killing Asami, and it took all the man's control not to squish that "fight" spirit inside of his miniature carbon copy. The last person with an abundance of the "fight" spirit had broken free from Asami's grasp. He did not need that to be repeated.

Asami liked control, yet his home offered very little of it.

While in deep thought, a part of Asami's brain waited for the cry.

Waited for his son's chronic entrance into the house.

And he waited, and he waited for his youngest son to wail, because Chico always cried when Asami came home at a normal time.

Unless...Asami sighed and stormed upstairs into his room.

He prayed that Ichigo had remembered to pick up Chico, prayed that his infant son not waiting for his mother to come and get him at the daycare, he prayed that Ichigo was not sleeping on the bed, in a drunken slumber.

When finally, standing at the open door of the master bedroom, he realized that he'd stopped believing in prayers ages ago.

There was Ichigo, hair tousled, limbs sprawled over the bed like a wet starfish, shoes still on, and absolutely no Chico in sight.

Asami, for the most part, contained his anger as he began his stride towards the bed. Cringing at her shoes, he took a seat beside her.

Like always, her face was caked with an unnecessary amount of expensive make up, she stank of elaborate perfume, an she adorned a pricy cocktail dress.

The potent scent of alcohol began to mix with her floral perfume.

Asami sighed, and roughly nudged her on the shoulder. She stirred, opened one eye, and pulled the thick comforter over her head.

"Ichigo!" he hissed venom at his wife, shaking her once more to wake her up.

She groaned, "What!?"

"Where is Chico?" Asami asked, his voice serious and slightly higher than before.

Ichigo was one of the only beings in the entire universe that could annoy Asami to this extent.

"Dunno," she yawned, as she seeped deeper and deeper into her cotton cocoon, "thought you got him..."

Asami grabbed the cover, and yanked it back, "And why on earth would I get him? Is that not your job?"

Her crystal blue eyes shot open, and she glared daggers at Asami.

"You had the damn car," she growled, yanking the covers back, "he's your son, go get him yourself!"

Asami yanked the blanket away once more, "I bought you a car! To use! To pick up our son with!"

She shrugged, "I was out with the girls," she explained, "got drunk, bad hangover, get him yourself."  
There was no arguing with crazy, but Ichigo lacked responsibility big time.

"No," Asami said sternly, "You're going to pick him up."

Ichigo sighed, rudely, and looked up at Asami, "Why the hell did I marry you?'''

"Because you wanted my money," he replied monotonously, "that's why."

"Didn't know I'd have to put up with this shit," she groaned as she pushed herself up, yawning once more, "where are your keys?"

Asami stood up, and made to exit the room, "Take your own car, the car I got you."  
She rolled her eyes, "Fine, fine...but go out with me tonight?"

Asami rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Where?"  
"My friend's husband is opening up a new restaurant, it's going to be on television," she squealed, "and besides, it would look very good for Club Sion if you attended."

Asami nodded. Whenever it came to wealth and publicity, Ichigo knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I'll consider, if I have nothing planned tonight," he paused, "and what of Casper, and Chico?"  
She shrugged, and fell back unto the bed, her legs shooting up playfully in the air, "Casper's a smart boy, he can watch Chico," her legs fell, "he's like you."  
Not really, Asami thought to himself.

"I'll have my sec-"

"Ugh, he can watch himself, Ryuichi!" she shouted, "I don't understand why you baby him so much!"

"Perhaps because he's a child, not some hooligan like you," he snapped, his rage unyielding, "Ichigo, when will you grow up?"  
She scowled at him, "I am grown up," she stood up, walking towards him, "And don't be ashamed of me, when you're the one who married me!"

She sped past him before he could hurl a retort towards her.

Outside of the hallway, he heard her scream.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Asami closed his eyes a this wife's outburst.

"Leave him alone," Asami started, his tone near pleading. He followed his wife to the hallway, and sighed at his son, who grabbed his arm with his small hand. He was leaning on the wall, trembling.

Casper was trembling.

"She pushed you," Asami didn't even ask, there was no reason to. Casper was Ichigo's personal punching bag.

The boy's lips quivered, and he fought to keep his eyes dry. Crying was a sign of weakness, and Asami had instilled this belief deep into Casper.

He loomed over his son, peering at him with a disgusted look.

"W-w-what do you want from me!?" Casper's scream was blood curdling, filled with anger and hate. He pushed away from the wall, past Asami, and to his room.

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After the incident with his mother and father, Casper retired to his bedroom for the rest of the night. He felt slightly guilty for abandoning his little brother, but he needed to be alone.

In the security of his room, he took a pen and began to draw. His father cringed at his art work, his mother refused to buy him any paper, so he drew with what he had.

His white walls.

It started with the area behind his large cotton curtains, slightly under his window ledge. When closed, the pictures were invisible, and the shadow under the ledge darkened his ink drawings. When his parents bothered to come into his room, the images were never visible to him.

However, his talent began to work in tandem with his parents. The more he drew, the less they entered his room.

They didn't care anymore, didn't care about him or his brother...just money.

He looked at the stained canvass before him. It had taken years of his short life to perfect this masterpiece. He'd progressed from the window ledge, to the walls, to the closet door, to the bathroom door, to the entire room.

The pictures climbed to at least the average height of a six year old child. They varied, each of them. Some were abstract, others surreal.

When younger, he drew dinosaurs and dragons, small knights and princess, towers and wizards.

Back then, those pictures were just fairy tales that Glasses Guy secretly told him, tales to brighten his spirit.

Now they were symbolic stories that mirrored his life. Except, he was the trapped "princess", waiting for his "knight" to come rescue him from this torment.

His family was dysfunctional.

Tonight, he drew Glasses Guy again. Though his emotions plagued the piece. Casper's hands moved like electricity, fast and potent, drawing dark lines, pricking dots into the smooth wall, and bleeding out Casper's imagination unto the canvass before him.

It wasn't until seconds later, that Casper realized that he'd drawn Glasses Guy being eaten by a dragon.

He paled, and dropped the pen.

His knight was never going to save him. Never.

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"Would you schedule a meeting with his parents?" Takaba nervously asked Kou over the phone, as he walked into the school building, "I'm really tempted to."

"You made a promise," Kou's exhausted voice reached through the staticy phone line, "Keep it. If you break it, you'll lose his trust."  
Takaba sighed, "I know, it's just...I hate to see a kid like that. I feel like punching his parents in the face for treating him like that! He's such a nice kid!"

Kou chuckled, "You can't hit a girl, because his mother is a girl, that's against the rules!'

"Ha! I can hit a monster," Takaba replied with a laugh, "she'll be no different."

"Yeah, keep dreaming, keep dreaming_Oh, and I just wanted to tell you, if you're going to schedule the meeting, do it sometime else, I got tickets to a movie, and my girlfriend dumped me last week."

"So you want me to be your sloppy second?" though serious, Takaba was on the peak of laughter.

"No, Mr. Steiner, I just don't want to waste this good money, and Takato and his wife haven't spoken to me since...anyway, what do you say?" Kou purposely avoided the hot topic regarding Takato's family, and skipped unto the main question. Takaba decided to play along.

"Hmm...only if you buy the popco-"  
"Done, you know where to meet. And about C-Casper," Kou bit back a laugh at the westernized name, "We can take him with us too, and maybe we'll catch a friendly ghost-"  
"Not funny," Takaba stated bluntly, "chose your next words careful, or I will hang up."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just that, you can help him get through bullying! Remember, people bullied you for a while too, what was it they called you?"  
Takaba's face reddened at the mere embarrassing memories, "They called my a schnitzel, but I beat them up later. But violence isn't going to help Casper. Listen Kou, I'm already in my office, I gotta go, see ya later!"

"Bye schnitzel," Kou teased before disconnecting the line.

Takaba shook his head at his friends tease, and started to prepare his desk for the school day. However, his biggest concern was finding Casper's bully, and having a nice long sit down with them.

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He took Mr. Steiner's advice, and braved the morning with no contacts. However, he kept his eyes downcast in order to avoid anyone's gaze.

Finding his belonging had been the top of his priority list, and he prayed that his bullies hadn't trashed it like they had him. If so, he'd have a hard time explaining to Asami why he needed more books, and supplies.

They tortured him in the cafeteria fay before, therefore, that's most likely where his belongings were. Since it was the morning, and classes didn't start for another twenty minutes, the cafeteria would be near vacant, and he could easily slip in and out.

His uniform would help to, since everyone practically wore the same outfit. He could fit in. He looked down at his shoes, and scuffed them with his heals.

Bullies loved to pick on the fact that he came from a rich family. It's not like he had control of what family he was born into, not like he managed the money. But they didn't see it like that.

Wealth meant happiness, so Casper must be happy.

They were idiots.

Now back to his senses, Casper snuck into the large cafeteria and scanned the ground for his scattered book bag.

The cafeteria consisted of a kitchen, an array of tables, and a ledge on the wall for microwaves. Occasionally, students would toss abandoned blaisers or lunchboxes unto the ledge.

Casper's heart jumped. He saw his books, neatly stacked on the ledge, and beside it, his dark green back pack.

However, around it swarmed the all too familiar group. His bullies.

They were like an electric field. His back pack acted as the object that was being magnified, while the others acted as stray charges, ready to spark if necessary.

He needed those bags, as class would start in less than fifteen minutes now. He had work to do, and no one was willing to give the rich kid answers. They all assumed that his parents paid his way through school, but they failed to realize that Casper was not the smartest kid on the block.

But that's something that these blokes would never realize.

He was hidden from them, invisible. If he played his cards right and waited, than perhaps he could get his bags back and half-ass his work.

Yeah, in the five minutes they'll give you, he reminded himself.

Casper needed his bags, and he needed them now.

Get Mr. Steiner? His conscience asked him. He shook his head, "I'll try t-to do this myself."  
His conscience sighed, You're nervous, I can tell. But hey, get beat up a little bit, don't listen to me! You've got this in your hand, don't you Casper?

He shook the annoying voice out of his head, and ducked under the ledge. No longer could he see his assaulter full bodies, but just their legs.

Casper, what the hell!? Don't let them see you! The voice screamed, but Casper waved it away.

He needed his books, he needed to pass his classes.

"Let's rip the pages out, and give them back," a dumb sounding kid giggled, "Casper will never see it coming."

"Oh! Let's just throw it away," another one chided, "or scatter his things around the school!"

They all agreed in unison, laughing and joking.

"No, that's too kind," the leader spoke up, her voice silky and smooth, "Let's fill his bag with the garbage, or piss. His father'll have a run for his money, huh? A rich kid like Casper, smelling like shit!"

"NO!" he covered his mouth after his outburst.

It all happened so fast. Roughly, he dragged from under the ledge.

Like always, they slammed him onto the wall, his head connecting with the cold brick, and his legs dangling like that of a hangman.

A fist balded his tie, forcing him into the wall, beckoning the two to merge.

Casper couldn't breath, he couldn't open his eyes.

He felt like he was tied to the gallows.

"Let him hang, let's see if the rich kid can buy himself out of this one," a nameless suspect called, "Just 'cause your father's rich and mighty doesn't mean you can go around eavesdropping, that doesn't give you the right!"

Casper coughed, "Y-you h-had my s-stuff!" he shouted weakly in defense, "H-"  
A fist collided with his jaw, and another with his gut.

"Shut up!" cried his torturer.

"Spoiled rich kid!" hurdled another.

Casper's eyes shot open.

The group gasped.

"What the fuck is wrong with your eyes?" the girl cried, "Are you sick?"

"It's-"

"Punch him in this eye, the golden one!" the girl screamed again, "Make sur-"

Suddenly, the torment stopped.  
"What's going on here!?" Despite his pain, he smiled. Mr. Steiner had come to his rescue.

Casper fell roughly on the ledge, and rolled onto the ground. The bullies took off, running for cover. However, Mr. Steiner had grabbed one of them tightly by her arm, pulling her close to his side.

"I'll deal with you in a second," he hissed, "and you," he looked towards Casper, his eyes softening slightly, "go to my office, we need to talk."

Casper forced himself off of the ground, panting and hurting all over.

"Do you need help?" Mr. Steiner asked, his voice laced with concern, "Are you hurt badly?"

Casper quickly shook his head, despite the agony that radiated through his body with every movement. He didn't want to appear weak in front of Mr. Steiner, not anymore.

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This girl was hot headed, opinionated, and arrogant. All a nasty mix. She bullied Casper because he was rich, disliked him for his clothes, and for his shyness.

At least she was honest about her actions, he was different from her. He was too quiet, to annoying, and just an eyesore.

She wanted him gone.

Takaba nodded as she rambled, not even bothering to apologize. "And he looks at us like we're trash, his eyes are always squinting in disgust when he's looking at us."

"Firstly, he's Japanese, so his eyes are going to be "squinty", Takaba said, his tone rather annoyed, "and he wears contacts, so his eyes could get irritated. Did you think about that?"

She looked away, "Rich kids like him just get things so easy, and he's always shoving it in our faces with his expensive shoes, and watches, it's not fair!"

"And what makes you think rich people have the best lives?" Takaba controlled his anger, though his expression was warped into disbelief, "who told you that?"

"They have mone-"

"Money doesn't buy happiness," he raised his voice, fighting back a scream, "relationships do! Go to class, now! I'll come talk to you later!"

The girl stormed out of the office.

Casper had witnessed the entire outburst, and felt his faith in youth evaporate a little bit more. She was so stupid.

May Takeshi, that was her name. Casper knew this wasn't over between them.

"Let me look at your face," Mr. Steiner had walked towards Casper and knelt to his height, "This is terrible Casper, I'm going to have to tell your parents."  
His eyes widened with panic, "You can't!"

Mr. Steiner sighed, and gently rubbed Casper's cheek, "When I was younger, I used to be bullied too."

"R-really? T-than how are you so...strong now?" Casper asked in disbelief, "why'd they bully you?"

"Because I was "different". I'm not full Japanese, if you couldn't tell," he smiled, and continued to stroke Casper's cheek, "so they called my schnitzel stick, because I'm part German, and stuffed paper copies of "Mein Kampf" in my book bag."  
Casper gasped, he knew exactly what "Mein Kampf" was, "How did you stop it?"

I beat the shit out of them, "It took a while, but I eventually ended up bringing them traditional German food that I learned how to make, I served it for my birthday and at the culture fest, not to mention, I got involved in many school activities. Including photography."

Casper sighed, he could never reach out like that. He averted his gaze.

"Oh Casper," Mr. Steiner sighed, as he pulled the boy into a hug, "we need to get you friends...it doesn't even need to be that many. As long as you can count them on one hand, on the fingers and the spaces in between the fingers, than that's enough."

Casper was paralyzed, it had been a while since he was hugged. And the last person who hugged him disappeared.

Was Takaba his new knight in shinning armor, a knight that was destined to a devastating end?

Would he break his promise?

"And Casper," Mr. Steiner's sweet voice cooed from above the boy's head, "It's okay to cry. Don't be ashamed of having emotions." Like Asami was.

Casper hadn't really realized it, hadn't realized that the tears were falling freely, that his body was trembling violently, and that his small fist were clawing into Mr. Steiner's suit.

He hadn't realized that the helpless wailing echoing around Mr. Steiner's office belonged to him.

He hadn't realized that for the first time in ages, he felt truly safe, that the felt at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> never see you anymore, come out the door, it's like you've gone awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy!" I was thinking of Frozen when I wrote this, thinking too much! A lot of you are probably thinking, "If a kid was bullied, why is he so open?" Like explained, he wanted help, and he felt he could relate to Takaba. I got the name Casper from Casper the Friendly Ghost. That movie used to scare the shit out of me when I was little. If you couldn't tell, he get's his artistic side from his mother, and while she's a drunk, her genes have influenced him greatly, and her culture. Which is why she named him Casper. Anyway, as for now, this is just a one-shot! So I hope you all enjoyed, have a nice weekend, and God bless!


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